


A third career choice for James Hathaway

by Guinevere81



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Undercover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:25:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6664093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guinevere81/pseuds/Guinevere81
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an attempt to catch a killer James goes undercover. Robbie is not sure quite how to react to this when he finds that his colleagues new career is in a strip club.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

’You can’t be serious?’ Robbie looked between James and Moody in quiet amazement. He was sure he must be misunderstanding something.  
  
‘Two young men are dead and a third is missing. We are deadly serious.’ Moody entreated, ignoring the rather glaring pun.  
  
‘I know they might not hire me but they’re desperate for new staff in the wake of loosing three of their best.’ James pushed looking just a little petulant.  
  
‘I’m not saying you can’t do it James. It’s just… oh for Christ sake you were training to be a priest… ‘ Robbie pushes. He’s not entirely sure what point he is trying to make, just that the idea of James taking his kit off in front of a room full of people seems so wrong on so many levels.  
  
Something steely appears in James’ eyes and Robbie knows he’s pushing the line.  
  
‘We’re hoping that might be a selling point, a sinful vicar sort of concept.’ Moody says in a voice that is strangely serious and calm considering the subject, not a hint of irony.  
  
Robbie takes a deep breath and closes his eyes for just a few moments to gather his thoughts. The whole idea seems ludicrous but Moody and James seem equally committed so until they come to their senses it would seem that this farce is happening no matter what he thinks of it.  
‘There are people there who know James as a policeman, he went there with Lizzy before. How are you going to get round that?’ He asks. He’s clutching at straws but if he can find an angle from which the other two can see that James going undercover as a stripper is the worst idea this side of inventing the atom bomb perhaps he can stop this before the train derails.  
  
It’s not that he doesn’t think James can do the job. He’s fine featured and enigmatic enough to make up for any lack of muscle tone, the audience will love his mystery and drama. It’s more the fact that he feels like something in James will be irretrievably lost if he starts selling himself even in a visual rather than a physical way.  
  
Robbie has never actually thought of strippers, or even prostitutes, as dirty or immoral. Three years in vice has taught him that they are usually just desperate people turning to what they think is their only way of earning a living. Even so Moody’s joke about a sinful priest hits just a little bit too close to home. There is something oddly innocent about James, something which Robbie wonders if he’ll ever be able to retrieve if he has seen James sashay across a stage with his privates on display.  
  
Still this is not about his opinion of his former sergeant. He doesn’t even really have a say in this. The meeting is a courtesy one. He is being informed of their decision, not asked for his opinion.  
  
‘As I just said we are trying to make James’ past an asset rather than a drawback. As of today James will be dismissed from the police force for some rather unsavoury activity. We’ll put him in the club as a punter to start with, hope that an overly open and subtly desperate attitude to the barman might garner an introduction. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have him dancing in a police uniform at the end of the week.’ Moody argues calmly and Robbie has to try to push the visual of James, in a patrol uniform flinging his helmet at the audience, out of his mind.  
  
‘I want to be part of the operation. I want you to put me in there with him.’ Is the best Robbie can offer which rewards him with a cheerful chuckle from Moody and James making an unintelligible waving gesture with his hands which suggests frustration thought with what is hard to tell.  
  
‘I… sorry Robert… you’re honestly a bit too old’ Moody explains.  
  
‘I don’t mean as a dancer, I’d be no good as that. Can’t I be his manager or something?’ Robbie asked desperately.  
  
‘I’ve just been kicked out of the police force and I’m desperate enough to turn to exotic dancing to make ends meet. A manager doesn’t really fit the story Robert.’ James interjects but Moody looks pensive.  
  
‘You could go in as a punter if you like. Start going now while James gets set up, occasional visits, then more frequently once James starts dancing, provided we haven’t caught the killer before he gets that far.’ He suggests. ‘It would provide an extra level of security for James’. Moody’s lack of belief that James can provide his own security network is not even thinly veiled.  
  
‘Sure, I’ll go tonight, set myself up.’ Robbie agrees, quickly before anyone has time to change their mind. The last time he had attempted going undercover he’d nearly had his head bashed in and that had been playing cricket. God only knows what kind of trouble James might get into going undercover in a strip club.  
  
‘Robbie, this isn’t going to be pretty girls swinging their breasts at you.’ James clarifies  
  
‘I rather figured as much. You are not well endowed in that department lad.’ Robbie returns and stands to leave.  
  
‘As far as anyone outside of the station is concerned this meeting was me giving you notice James, now go get yourself an audition.’ Moody dismisses them and they both head for the office.  
  
Robbie expects them to have it out about this crazy new venture but James says nothing. Well nothing beyond ‘See you later’ and ‘I’m off to the gym.’  
  
The office is eerily silent after he’s left and Robbie can’t help but feel that this morning surely must have been a dream. Surely James had not just volunteered to go undercover as a stripper? Surely he has not just agreed to play the part of a punter in a gay strip club?


	2. Chapter 2

Despite all his misgivings Robbie ends his workday by googling the club that he has heard Lizzy and James speak of before but which he has never visited. It had served as an important link in a case before his trip to Australia and he remembers thinking that Lizzy seemed more than a little fond of it. In the end thought he had never had to visit and he had not felt any great loss at that.  
  
Having spent most of his life happily married and the rest of it quietly grieving it has been a long time since he last frequented strip clubs or erotic dancing venues or whatever they called themselves these days. He had left all that behind when he had transferred out of vice with a sigh of relief.  
  
The website that advertised the club was surprisingly tasteful. It had a menu with prices of drinks and a list of the evenings headlining dancers. The main stage was all women but there is a small blue grey square at the bottom of the page that details the three headliners for what the club calls the ‘boys only room’. Tonight is advertised as body type night and has three main acts. The evening starts with ‘Something to cuddle Clive’ moves on to ‘Lovely and lean Luke’ to end the night with ‘Fightclub fit Freddy’. Robbie has a sneaky feeling that the clumsy alliteration will drive James mad but it’s not his place to judge. Go, have a drink, watch the show and pretend you’re having a good time, he tells himself.  
The outer club is fairly sparely populated when he arrives at seven in the evening. There is a pretty and very young brunette lazily swinging around a pole in the middle of the room. She doesn’t particularly seem to be enjoying it, nor do the punters gathered around to watch her.  
  
Regardless of how much or how little he would enjoy watching the young woman undress he thankfully doesn’t have to consider that. His job lies not in the main room but in the back room. The irony of the male strippers being sequestered to a room somewhat out of the way with its own stage and its own bar does not go unnoticed. Only Robbie isn’t sure if it is an insult to women, that they are the expected source of debatably exploitative sexual exhibitionism or if it is an insult to the gay community because once he enters the back room it becomes very clear that while the strippers may be male the clientele has not changed. The young male dancers are not treated with more respect, rather they are hidden, out of sight, like the black sheep of the family.  
  
‘Cuddly Clive’ is up on stage and everyone’s attention is turned toward him. He’s wearing more clothes than the girl on the stage outside. His briefs actually cover his bum and he’s wearing a shirt with rolled up sleeves open to reveal more chest hair than Robbie would have expected from a stripper. Just goes to show how much he knows about the world of exotic dancing. He is not however particularly surprised to see that Clive is wearing a ton of makeup in an attempt to hide what is clearly a rather colourful black eye.  
  
Clive is young, and clearly nervous. A pretty boy who according to Robbie’s estimate does not really deserve to be described in terms that suggest he is a little overweight. He doesn’t make use of the two poles provided on stage, instead he does an awful lot of rolling his hips and winking seductively at the punters. It makes Robbie cringe when he gains eye contact and the boy gives him a nervous smile and lowers his eyes to parts of Robbie’s physiognomy that are not really engaged at this point.  
  
In the end Clive earns tepid applause at the end of his performance, at which point the shirt has been discarded and the brief’s have ridden up to reveal a perfectly average behind. He hasn’t however gone completely commando and the punters seem disappointed.  
  
Clive slinks off and another young man takes care of the duty of picking up the discarded clothes. The new boy is fair and thin and very, very young. He could be James’ younger brother, his son even if James had been a young father… the boy looks barely old enough to be out of school. It’s hard to imagine what brings such a young man to a place like this; desperation, poverty, or something less dark, maybe simple curiosity…  
  
Robbie’s thoughts on the youth of today are cut short by the arrival of his colleague. James has changed after the gym, but instead of the casual jeans and t-shirt that Robbie is used to from the few times he has seen James off duty, there seems to have been an odd regression to five or ten years ago.  
  
The three piece suit is gone. His trousers are still immaculately pressed and his shirt neatly starched but it’s a very light shade of pink and the top button has been undone, James’ hair is tousled and to Robbie’s great amazement he can see what is either pink or purple socks glinting between dress shoe and trouser leg. James hasn’t worn anything colourful for the past couple of years, not since his trip to Spain, and it is rather odd to see him suddenly bringing out a part of himself that seemed to have been discarded.  
  
His jacket is off and his white and fuchsia striped tie loosened and he plonks himself down by the bar ordering a drink while looking distinctly unhappy.  
  
Robbie finds it singularly hard to remind himself that this is an act and he does not know James when the younger man downs his third whiskey, head bowed and back arched in a perfect display of downright misery. Robbie should be impressed by James’ acting, he should attempt to blend in equally well. Instead he keeps only half an eye on Clive and the tall, dark, skinny boy who work the room along with him, chatting to punters and showing off their semi-nude bodies while serving drinks.  
  
When the dark boy is introduced as lean Luke for his ten o’clock performance Robbie watches with only half an eye. James is either rather tipsy or putting on an act. He is waving his arms around rather expressively, telling some sort of story. The barman is starting to look in equal measures frustrated and concerned. He disappears half way through the performance and returns with a bulky looking man who talks to James with one eye fixed on Luke.  
  
Robbie forces himself to give Luke more attention as the newcomer’s eyes move across the floor, taking in the reactions of the audience. If Robbie had to guess he would say that Luke is probably a postgrad who has done this since his undergrad days. He’s much more skilled than the first lad. He could compete with the girls in the room outside in skill when it comes to swinging himself around the two poles but unfortunately he is also about as committed as they seemed to be. No one in this establishment really seems to enjoy their job. Then again Robbie wouldn’t either if it involved trying to seduce sleazy middle-aged men like himself.  
  
Luke ends his performance by leaning down and kissing one of the men nearest the stage and the audience erupts in cheers. Robbie can’t help but feel that he’s very glad that he’s sat against a wall. Luke is attractive enough but Robbie has been so singularly focused on women since he was seventeen years old that to even think of kissing another man is more than a little uncomfortable. He quietly wonders if he’s gotten in over his head insisting that he be allowed to join James on this mission. Playing cricket had been one thing, he had been good at cricket in his youth, pretending to be gay and ogling young boys was another matter entirely. Possibly undercover work was not really for him.  
  
Robbie orders another beer. Even drinking as slowly as he can there is no way he can avoid getting through a few beers in an evening and he knows he’ll feel the effect in the morning. Up at the bar he is close enough to James to hear the conversation.  
  
‘Come back when you’re sober and bring a CV.’ The man who is almost certainly some sort of manager says dismissively.  
  
‘No, no, I can do it, look I’ll show you.’ James argues and just like that he is off the barstool and heading for the stage.  
  
‘Hey what the hell’ the manager shouts as James mounts the stage. While James swings around one of the poles, hooking his leg around it and arching his back the manager fishes his mobile out of his pocket and yells for security. He doesn’t try to get James to step off the stage himself, instead he remains behind the bar, observing as all eyes turn to James. Robbie watches with the rest of the punters as James loses his tie, his shoes, his socks and his shirt in rather short order before pulling himself up along the pole and sliding down it again with a look on his face that Robbie can only describe as pornographic. The punters are cheering, James is a bit clumsy and he certainly sheds his clothes at a rate that takes the tease out of strip tease but he has something that none of the other dancers have had, he looks like he is enjoying himself and the audience is loving it.  
  
James is starting to undo his belt when two security guards arrive from the outer room and head for the stage. Robbie can see rather than hear one of them mouth the words ‘get off the stage’ but James takes no notice. Instead he dangles the discarded belt in front of himself in what could be construed as a taunting manner but is probably supposed to be seductive. The guard grabs it, snatching it from James’ hand before swiping it toward James like a whip. James jumps out of reach just as the belt is about to strike him but he looses his balance dropping down on all fours. The other guard seizes the opportunity. He grabs James by the wrist and pulls him roughly off the stage.  
  
Robbie is half way to the stage before he catches himself. James will not thank him for blowing his cover. Luckily two other punters have also stood to protest and one of them is yelling at the security guards to let James finish. It has no effect. At a signal from the manager James is manhandled through a door behind the bar and a moment later Luke returns for an encore which placates the disgruntled audience.  
  
Robbie waits, all nerves for James to appear again. The guards had seemed none too friendly and Robbie can’t help but remember Laura’s verdict that both their murder victims had suffered long term physical abuse before their deaths.  
  
James does return half an hour later, he is grinning and gives Robbie a subtle thumbs up before slipping out the door and disappearing.  
  
Robbie stays for another half an hour but not long enough to see the last performer go on. He wants to go as soon as he’s seen James safely out the door but that would be too obvious. Instead he stays and even makes sure to tuck a fiver into the waistband of Luke’s underwear before he withdraws.  
  
He doesn’t sleep much that night, instead he runs the events of the evening back through his mind. James arriving, looking so unhappy, that rather impressive dance, and then the way James had been dragged off the stage. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. He knows he’s supposed to trust James to take care of himself, supposed to trust the police service to back him up in his work, he’s got a panic alarm hidden somewhere Robbie’s been told, and yet he’s scared, scared that the next victim won’t be an unidentified young male but rather his lanky young colleague.


	3. Chapter 3

Robbie writes his report on the previous night but he doesn’t send it. He knows Moody will throw a fit once he hears about the more dramatic elements of the evening and Robbie doesn’t want to report it until he has seen James and knows he’s alright.  
  
James turns up at 8.30 looking tired and worn but otherwise much the same as always, and really tired and worn are not anything particularly out of the ordinary. Robbie forgoes all normal procedures and simply plonks himself down on James’ desk gently inspecting his partner.  
  
‘Are you alright Jim?’ James raises his nearly invisible eyebrows in a questioning frown.  
  
‘I’m fine, what do you mean?’ he asks, cocking his head slightly.  
  
‘Last night, they didn’t hurt you?’ Robbie asks placing a gentle hand on James’ shoulder.  
  
‘Well, they didn’t beat me up if that’s what you’re asking but they weren’t all warm and fuzzy either.’ James grimaces holding out his wrist to reveal colourful bruises snaking around the swollen limb. ‘… but I’ll live, and I did get hired.’ There’s a twinkle of pride in James’ eyes but Robbie is more concerned with rolling up James’ sleeve to inspect the damage to his arm than in celebrating his success in acquiring a career as a stripper. It isn’t as bad as Robbie had feared but there are dark marks snaking around James’ wrist and the outer side of his arm is quite swollen.  
  
‘I don’t care if he’s a security guard, this is assault James. Have you had this seen to?’ Robbie knows the answer even as he asks.  
  
‘It’s fine, I’m just a bit sore.’ James grins trying to pull his arm out of Robbie’s grasp and grimacing involuntarily as that adds pressure to the injury.  
  
‘If you’re fine a doctor will confirm it, look how swollen that is, what if you’ve broken a bone and you’re being too stubborn to see to it? And you were injured in the line of duty, Moody will throw a fit if he finds I didn’t get you proper medical attention.’  
  
James actually chuckles slightly at Robbie’s concern, something he hasn’t done for some time. ‘Fine but let’s sort the report out first, and I have a meeting at the club this afternoon that I can’t miss. One of the girls is giving me dance lessons, should be interesting. Apparently they want me to headline on Saturday and my skills need to be up to scratch.’ James sighs with a resigned huff but the sparkle hasn’t left his eyes, for some reason he seems to find this whole thing amusing.  
Robbie finally gets James to agree to a visit to A&E which much to his equal relief and frustration proves him wrong. James wrist isn’t broken, it’s just sprained and bruised. Still James leaves the hospital with it wrapped in a thick white bandage a sling to use as needed and strict orders not to use his left hand for anything strenuous in the next few days.  
  
James however is more concerned with not being late for his dance lesson and spends every thirty seconds checking his watch to make sure he will have time to go home and change.  
  
‘Perhaps you should rethink that dance lesson, I’m sure Moody would understand if you pull out or even just delay the assignment.’ Robbie offers  
  
‘No I’ll go in, see what she has to say, talk to the boss. The James Hathaway we’re trying to sell to them wouldn’t give up on work because one of his colleagues bruised his arm. If it’s all the same with you though it would be great if you dropped me home, I need to change.’ James insists and Robbie grudgingly decides to pick his battles and drops James at his flat.  
  
When Robbie turns up at the bar to do his expected part of the undercover mission in the evening he finds James behind the bar, having replaced the bandage with a studded leather bracelet.  
  
Robbie longs to ask him about it, or maybe that should be reprimand him even though he doesn’t have the right any more, but since they’re not supposed to know each other he finds he’s restricted to flirting, something it turns out James is surprisingly good at. Robbie’s last undercover mission had been easy, just a case of pretending he had a very different job and doing his best to play cricket, this was a whole other mission.  
  
Having Hathaway stand across from him wearing nothing but leather pants and those inexplicable fox tattoos he had no idea how to feel. Part of him, the paternal part wanted to drag James out of that place and into a safe haven somewhere, Another part of him couldn’t help but think that James looked really good in those skin tight trousers and surely that was wrong in so many ways.  
  
‘What can I get you?’ James smiles at him with what can only be described as come hither eyes.  
  
‘I’ll have a pint of Newcastle Brown.’ Robbie answers simply because it’s the easiest answer he can come up with. James is wearing makeup, his eyelashes are dark and there is a definite line of something black around his eyes that Lyn used to wear far too much of but James pulls off rather well.  
  
‘One pint of Newcastle it is. I’m only doing bar work to cover the rent, I’ll be taking my kit off up there come Saturday if you’re interested.’ James taunts and despite himself Robbie can’t help but blush.  
  
They spend the rest of the evening like that, mock flirting with James pulling pints for Robbie and Robbie throwing a half hearted eye at the dancers on the stage. Robbie is glad that the late evening undercover work means he can get away with coming in late because the hangover is just horrendous. He’ll need to find a way to pace himself or he’ll turn into Morse he grudgingly realises.  
  
That being said it is nice to see James sat at his desk again, in a suit and with his arm back in the sling from the hospital.  
  
‘Am I going to have to yell at you for working the bar last night without that.’ Robbie asks with a bit of a frown.  
  
‘The boss isn’t a very nice man. He said if I didn’t man the bar I didn’t have a job, I figured it was worth the pain.'  
  
'Just take care, you don’t want to permanently injure yourself’ Robbie chastises gently.  
  
‘If it gets Andrew Hornby back alive it might just be worth it.’ James admits and Robbie takes that as a very dangerous warning about his colleague’s state of mind. It’s clear that James focus is no longer, in fact probably never has been, on his own state of health.  
  
It takes two more days and then Saturday finally rolls around and Robbie spends the whole day desperately nervous about what the evening will bring. Oddly they haven’t really talked about it but Robbie has been on the club website and he has no doubt as to who the midnight headliner with the name Aquino the fallen angel is.  
  
There is no James in the bar that evening and as midnight arrives the reason becomes rather obvious. To the sounds of a remake of Bach with a rather heavier drum beat James wanders through the club dressed in heavy white wings and a loin cloth. The combination of the angelic costume and James’ seductive sauntering is oddly tantalising, even to Robbie’s heterosexual sensibilities. The crowd is cheering before James is even on stage and by the time he mounts one of poles and slides down it with considerably more skill than he had the first time he attempted the move even Robbie is impressed.  
  
James is beautiful as he spins around that pole, all golden hair and bright blue eyes and Robbie is strangely surprised to find that his young sergeant is not all that unappealing to look at.  
  
It takes him all of ten minutes of exquisite spinning around that pole before he suddenly looses the loin cloth to reveal a rather shocking pair of red patent leather briefs and the reaction from the audience is not unexpected. Not long after he looses the wings and all that is left is James, somehow turning himself upside down in a move that should not be sexy but is because James arches his back and thrusts his hips in a way that is certainly not angelic. The punters are screaming with excitement and when in a sneaky last move James reaches under the stage and picks up a pair of red horns elegantly sliding them onto his head the room seems to erupt.  
  
It’s a very elegant act and it is clear that despite his wrist James has managed to pick up quite a few dancing skills over the week. That being said James has a nasty red mark stretching across his shoulder and something cold starts to grow in Robbie’s stomach.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is a bit dark, we'll get back to sexy James in a chapter or two... I Think...

James is on stage every night that week and when he isn’t on stage he is working behind the bar. Robbie doesn’t see much of him outside the club. James works in the club until the early hours of the morning and his afternoons are spent on dance lessons which only leaves limited morning hours which are swallowed up by James typing up his report and debriefing Moody. He seems perfectly cheerful, joking with Robbie about considering a career change while waving about a wad of cash after that first angelic dance performance, but when he doesn’t think Robbie is watching he slumps in his chair and much to Robbie’s concern bites his cuticles in that distracted way of his that never bodes well.  
  
The reports are incredibly informative and yet they seem to lead nowhere. There are far too many suspects. The manager is a sadistic bastard to takes a perverse pleasure in seeing any of his employees suffer, physically or emotionally… The rivalry between dancers, male and female alike is fierce and competition for the prime slots is brutal, possibly, although James has not yet been able to prove this, paid for by the offer of sexual favours to the really rather iffy manager.  
'   
That being said the manager himself was not exactly getting off scott free if James’ suspicions were anything to go by. They were all told to fiddle with the receipts because some of the cash each day was needed as a fee to ensure that the not quite mafia who had control of the criminal element in the local area did not trash the place.  
  
Then on top of that there was the drugs issue… at least two of the dancers were addicts and one of the bartenders was a major time dealer and there was no question that everyone in the club knew what was going on and were turning a blind eye to it.  
  
The accusations of drugs and money dealings are equally interspersed with mentions of violence. The dancers are spared more times than not because they have to look good on stage, but after nearly two weeks of reports perfectly on time James has to explain that he isn’t coming into the office because he spends all night in A&E with one of the barely 18yr old bartenders who had been giving free drinks to his friends and got caught and creatively punished by one of the security guards.  
  
It is the late report of that incident which makes Robbie aware of what is missing in James’ reports. They have certainly been thorough enough, giving details of every potentially criminal activity taking place. Every instance of someone taking drugs is listed, every time there is violence or as seems to frequently be the case the manager’s hands turn a little to wandering, fondling the boys of girls in ways not appreciated  
  
Yet despite repeated physical and sexual abuse, documented in detail and a steady stream of drugs flowing in and out of the club, along with the constant threat posed by organised crime from outside the club James’ own name is never mentioned. It is as if he is a scientist making a research observation from behind a pane of glass.  
  
His descriptions are so vivid, so clear and believable that Robbie can’t fault Moody for not picking up the fact that part of the narrative is missing. Hard to blame someone else for a mistake that he has been making himself. It is an unexpected slip of the tongue in that last report that finally opens Robbie’s eyes to what has not been in the previous reports. Maybe it isn’t even a slip of the tongue, but sheer honesty but when Robbie reads the report, which has arrived late and it reads ‘we were kept in for observation.’ before detailing the injuries sustained by Koji the foreign exchange student, and bartender that had incurred the wrath of the manager and through him the security contingent.  
  
He doesn’t get more than a sentence into the description of poor Koji’s condition before his eyes are drawn back to the previous line and he’s out of the chair and heading for James’ flat as he presses the speed dial on his phone.  
  
‘Robbie, sorry I was asleep. Eventful night last night.’ James mumbles into the receiver, clearly only half awake.  
  
‘Are you alright? I read your report.’ Robbie asks as he starts the car, fighting to keep under the speed limit as he heads out to James’ flat.  
  
‘I’m fine Robbie, I wasn’t the one beaten up.’ James assures but he sounds a little hesitant.  
  
‘Then why were you kept at the hospital for observation?’ Robbie pushes as he sighs at the congested traffic at the roundabout by Magdalen bridge.  
  
‘It’s fine Robbie, They were worried I may be concussed. I got in the way and Velimir accidentally pushed me into a wall.’ James offers evasively.  
  
In the past week Robbie has figured out that Velimir is one half of the two Bulgarian brothers who make up the head of security at the club. His brother Preslav had been the one who had sprained James’ wrist on that first night in the club. Along with the sexual predator of a manager and the as yet not named semi mafia and drug ring they were high on Robbie’s list of suspects.  
  
Knowing that he won’t get a straight answer out of James Robbie questions him about the incident, listening patiently to James describing what had happened after Cornwell, the manager, had caught Koji giving his friend free drinks.  
  
It is almost certainly all in the report and Robbie doesn’t need James to explain it again but that isn’t the purpose of Robbie’s questions. He’s simply keeping James on the line until he can get to his place to check him out for himself. James drifts off mid sentence at times and Robbie seriously suspects that he has been given either sedatives or painkillers at the hospital to make him sound that distant and hesitant. When he mumbles ’pain has this most excellent quality. If prolonged it cannot be severe, and if severe it cannot be prolonged’ in response to Robbie admitting that the list of Koji’s documented injuries sound awful Robbie knows he’s quoting someone or other and he’s just relieved that even if James is a bit banged up there’s enough of his facetious mind left to make Robbie smile.  
  
They spend fifteen minutes skirting around the issue on the phone before Robbie is parked outside James’ flat and he enthusiastically knocks on the door.  
  
‘Sorry Robbie, I’ve got to go. Someone’s at the door. It’s all in the report. I’ll see you at the club tonight.’ James promises and Robbie allows for the misunderstanding because he doesn’t want James to hide himself away and come up with excuses.  
  
‘Oh.’ James says as he opens the door and fins Robbie standing on his doorstep. ‘I should have guessed.’ He sighs turning away from Robbie and slumping onto the sofa. ‘The stupid doctors gave me pills that won’t wear off. It’s like walking through treacle, I probably shouldn’t have sent that report before I could think properly… may have reported marsians landing on earth for all I know.’  
  
The comment is full of snipey self-deprecation but Robbie isn’t fooled. James’ eyes are struggling to focus properly and part of that might be concussion and painkillers but part of it is certainly the wine that may not be visible in the shape of a bottle but is obvious from the little red dots on James sofa and the sour smell of his breath. No wonder he is feeling addled if he is mixing painkillers with booze.  
  
‘James, I don’t want any more excuses or prevarications. Tell me what’s going on. Not what’s happening to everyone else, what has happened to you since you started working at the club? I know you’re leaving it out of your reports. I want to know.’ Robbie’s tone is stern and demanding and James flinches, averting his gaze and curling up on the end of the sofa with an uncomfortable wince.  
  
‘I hand in a report every day.’ James evades.  
  
‘Which details all the awful things going on in that place apart from the ones that involve you.’ Robbie pushes.  
  
‘I’m a policeman, I can protect myself, it’s different.’ James argues but he still won’t meet Robbie’s eyes.  
  
‘Like hell it’s different. Is that why you spent last night in hospital?’ Robbie queries, inching closer and reaching out to tilt James’s head so he has little choice but to look at his former boss.  
  
‘I’m fine.’ James argues but the argument rings hollow.  
  
‘Right, you either submit your medical records from the hospital with the latest report or I will ask Moody to pull you out. I’m not watching you self destruct over this.’ Robbie snaps and James eyes go slightly glassy as he struggles to find a counter argument.  
  
‘You have no right… you’re not my boss any more.’ James tries but he sounds more like a petulant teenager than a policeman.  
  
‘James, if I tell Moody I found you drunk and high on painkillers after a night in the hospital that you tried to hide he won’t hesitate to pull you out so either tell me what is happening, every single time you’ve been hurt or I won’t hesitate.’ Robbie watches as James goes very pale and his breathing turns a little ragged before he gets up, goes into the kitchen and retrieves the already opened wine bottle and two glasses.  
  
Robbie opens his mouth to protest but James raises his hand in protest. ‘I haven’t taken any pills since I left the hospital and I am not talking about this sober. This is for Robbie, not for Inspector Lewis and certainly not for Moody… if you want it in any more official capacity you’ll need to take legal action, James says sternly as he takes a swig straight from the bottle before filling both glasses up.


	5. Chapter 5

‘What’s happened James?’ Robbie asks his voice filled with concern. 

‘It’s not one thing, not one person but it’s a terribly abusive environment.’ James hesitates.’You’ve seen what the security guards are like. They’re the type of men who don’t become security guards to keep people safe but rather to get to push people around. It was no accident that Velimir threw me into that wall yesterday. I’m lucky I came out of it with a concussion and not a broken back really. It’s like it’s a competition between the two of them who can be more brutal. You’ve seen the reports, you know how violent they are. Velimir broke Rosie’s wrist last week and Preslav hit me with a coat hanger just because I went to the bathroom when it wasn’t my time for a break. They’re awful but they get away with it because everyone in there is so desperate to keep their jobs.’ James stares into his wine glass looking miserable. 

‘Show me James. Show me the bruises so that I can stop fearing the worst.’ Robbie asks and James blushes but obliges, carefully shrugging off his t-shirt with a wince and turning around. Robbie isn’t surprised that the hospital had kept the lad in, he was more surprised that they’d let him out already. James shoulder blades are outlined in bruises and now that Robbie could see the back of his head he could tell there was a deep gash which had required stitches on the back of his head.

‘Christ James.’ Robbie reaches out and runs gentle fingers over the purple marring James back.

‘It’s not as bad as it looks, I just bruise easily’ James excuses.

‘It looks ruddy awful, are you telling me that doesn’t hurt?’ Robbie questions as James shrugs back into his t-shirt with gentle care

‘It hurts alright, head especially but it isn’t dangerous. Nothing’s broken, it really is just bruises and a slight concussion. I had a scan and everything.’ James smiles self deprecating. 

‘And the manager actually encourages this kind of behaviour?’ Robbie question somewhat horrified. 

‘He’s worse than they are he’s got very wandering hands. He’s been implying that if I don’t let him do what he wants I can expect not to have a job in the long run. That isn’t necessarily a problem for me but it is for some of the others. I’m fairly sure he even raped Alisa, I heard them having sex in the back room and afterwards she was crying.’ James stares awkwardly down at his hands as he speaks.

‘I remember, that was in the report. Has he tried with you?’ Robbie asks, scared of the answer.

‘He hasn’t raped me, I’m not sure he could if I actually fought back but he keeps touching me. Sometimes it’s just an appreciative hand sliding down my arm or back but then he’ll squeeze my bum or even cup a feel, even after I’ve danced, when I’m not wearing anything, especially after I’ve danced.’ James cheeks have gone bright pink and he’s twisting his hands in his lap. It is obvious that he finds this hard to talk about.

‘You’re being physically and sexually abused in that place and you didn’t think that was worth mentioning.’ There’s anger in Robbie’s voice but it’s anger for James rather than at him.

‘It’s part of the job, and you have the worst cases, the rape and the beating of Koji on record, you don’t need my trifles to make a case, besides we’re looking for a murderer not abuse charges. I report this and Moody pulls me out that could jeopardise the investigation. It isn’t worth it.’ James is more assertive now, no longer looking quite so uncomfortable. 

‘Getting repeatedly injured and molested isn’t part of the job James, it shouldn’t be part of any job. It matters. You matter.’ Robbie is equally adamant. 

‘I’m not saying I… please Robbie, I need to do this. I need to see it through. If it gets worse I’ll pull myself out, I promise.’ There is a steely determination in James voice. 

‘I’ll compromise, Robbie agrees. It’s up to you to decide if you want to report the bum squeezing. After all, who am I to say that it’s unwelcome.’ James shivers slightly, giving an indication to just how unwelcome it really is but Robbie doesn’t push. ‘But when it comes to these injuries you have to report them. You don’t have to press any charges but it needs to be on your record. If there are complications and you didn’t report that you were injured in the line of duty you’ll be in all sorts of trouble.’ 

‘There won’t be complications’ James mutters.

‘Concussions are cumulative James. You fall over and hit your head and knocks something loose it could be because of this and I don’t want to take that risk.’

James nods and winces, rather adding fodder to Robbie’s arguments.

‘Good!’ Robbie sighs. ‘Now get some sleep, you look exhausted, and then get me a new report that includes both your own and your young bartender’s injuries. I’ll explain to Moody why the report is late, once he hears you’ve been in hospital he’ll understand.’

‘Thank you.’ James says simply and Robbie hasn’t any idea if it is thank you for helping him with Moody, a thank you for talking him out of being a bloody idiot or a thank you simply for caring. It doesn’t much matter.

‘And no more wine, you’re going to need those painkillers.’ Robbie orders as he gets up to leave and he finds that James actually gets up from the sofa heading for his bedroom which is a relief of sorts.


	6. Chapter 6

That evening Robbie doesn’t expect James to dance. How could he in that state. He goes to the club more to keep up appearances, in order to be there even when James is not so they don’t get too obvious. He’s surprised therefore when the interestingly named Puck turns out to be none other than James. Only in Oxford would a shakespearean sprite be considered a suitable alias for a strippeer. James is dressed in thin green drapery and when the clothes come off it is evident that they have tried to conceal the fact that James back looks like he’s been in a car crash by painting his whole upper body green with an intricate leafy pattern. 

It’s a beautiful outfit and James looks lovely but something is definitely off about James dancing. His movements are strained and not as fluid as normal. The punters seem to enjoy his performance even so up until the point when after one of his odd turning himself upside down moves James suddenly stumbles away from the pole breathing hard and Robbie can see the panic in his eyes the second before James faints in a heap on the floor. There is a flutter of people getting up to help but this time Robbie can’t resist he’s up there with them. He’s done enough flirting with the boy since he started dancing here that his concern is justified. 

Robbie figures that the only way he’s going to have any chance to take James out of the noisy bar is if he actually takes it upon himself to carry the lad. He’s not sure his back will be up to it but he’s damned well going to try. James is blinking awake with tired confused eyes. 

‘Put your arms around my neck’ Robbie yells over the music and James does as he’s told. Lifting him is the tricky part, knees protesting more than his back. James may be thin but he’s no lightweight. Once up however it’s a bit easier and Robbie wades through the sea of oogling men toward the door to the private area behind the bar. Clive is at the bar and he opens the door for Robbie with a concerned look on his face.

In the back is a clutter of makeup tables but also a faded old leather sofa where Robbie now lowers James down. James groans and places one of his arms over his eyes shielding them from the bright lights. ‘Thank you for getting me out of there.’ he mumbles.

Two of the female dancers have heard what’s happened and come rushing in from their adjacent changing room. 

‘James, what happened are you okay?’ a pretty redhead in a green tassled bikini asks.

‘I fainted. Lesson learnt, don’t turn yourself upside down when you have a concussion.’ James admits rather sheepishly. 

‘He shouldn’t have made you work today. It was obvious you weren’t well.’ the redhead is the one to state the obvious. 

‘I don’t think I can, not for a few days. My head’s pounding and when I was dancing it was like everything went all blurry and then my legs just went out. I feel awful, I need a rest.’ James admits.

‘You need a doctor is what you need.’ the perky redhead declares. James doesn’t deny this just lies there with an arm across his eyes breathing rather heavily. 

‘Should I call an ambulance? I mean, if you need the hospital and you know none of us can leave to take you.’ the other girl pipes in. She’s a tall well endowed brunette who looks a little bit past her sellby date as a stripper. 

‘Just let me rest a bit, I can take a taxi when the world stops being so nauseatingly spinny.’ James argues rather unconvincingly from behind his arm. 

‘I can take him.’ Robbie offers. 

‘And you are?’ the redhead asks. 

‘My knight in shining armour.’ James tries for a joke.

‘I’m Robbie, I’m a regular in the boys room and this one happens to be my favourite.’ Robbie tried to explain his presence.

‘He’s everybody’s favourite.’ The girls giggle.

‘I’m not, I’m just a novelty.’ Came the next comment from James and he was starting to sound more steady now even if what was visible of his face was still white as a sheet. 

‘What the hell is going on here. Clive told me James collapsed on stage. What a bloody disgrace.’ The manager yelled as he entered the room.

James winced at the loud noise and removed the arm from his eyes squinting up from the sofa. ‘Sorry I couldn’t help it. It’s my head. I couldn’t do the moves. I could maybe man the bar tomorrow but I can’t dance, not until my head’s better.’ 

‘You shouldn’t be working at all until your head’s better lad.’ Robbie chastised.

‘Who the hell are you?’ the manager demands and Robbie can’t for the life of him remember the name of the man in front of him in that instance. Was it Cromwell, no that’s not right Cornwell, yes that’s it. 

‘My name is Robbie. I’m a fan of this young lad here. I’m completely addicted to watching him dance so I have a vested interest in his health. When I saw him fall I carried him in here. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the man behind the show, I’m guessing you’re the one in charge.’ Robbie works hard to ingratiate himself with the man and not think of him fondling James in inappropriate ways. 

‘Kevin Cornwell’ the man introduces himself ‘James here is my best asset, that out there was a disaster for business.’

‘I’m sorry!’ James repeats and sits up with a groan. He manages to get into a sitting position but then drops his head in his hands hiding his chalk white face.

‘Robbie’s offered to take James to the hospital.’ The older of the two women suggests. 

‘Is that necessary?’ Cornwell frowns. ‘We’re already short staffed, if he can man the bar Clive can fill in for his botched dance.’

‘Look at him man, he can’t even stand, how do you expect him to man a noisy bar.’ Robbie huffs, a bit pissed off at the callous comment. ‘He needs rest and to be looked after.’

‘Fine take him to A&E, but don’t expect to get paid for today.’ Cornwell huffs ‘You two, back out there, or you won’t get paid either.’ he orders the women.

‘Take him if you’re going to take him. This room is for staff only.’ he orders Robbie who is getting thoroughly pissed off at this man.

‘Do you think you can stand.’ he asks James.

‘I’ll try. I need some clothes first. Mine are on that chair.’ He instructs and it’s a good thing that even with a blinding headache he has remembered because Robbie had almost forgotten that he isn’t supposed to be able to identify James’s clothes on sight. 

He helps James wiggle into a t-shirt, skinny jeans and leather boots before gently getting him to his feet, all under the grumbling scrutiny of the sceptical manager who despite being able to see James pale face and shaky legs still acts as if the lad is trying to skive off. 

They head outside intently watched by punters and staff both and head for the taxi rank. 

‘Radcliffe A&E please.’ Robbie specifies as they get in.

‘No.’ James protests with a hand on Robbie’s arm, he’s beginning to learn not to shake his head.’I just want to go home.’

‘State you’re in you can’t be on your own lad.’ Robbie says gently but firmly. ‘I’ll give you a deal. You get yourself checked out and if they say that it’s okay you can come home with me where I can keep an eye on you.’

James considers this for a moment. Robbie has a point, he really doesn’t feel well and he doesn’t want a repeat of earlier. ‘My place is bigger and has better coffee.’ he says with a slight pout that makes him look half his years but does at least signal that he is somewhat returned to normal. 

‘Fine, your place then…’ Robbie concedes ‘but hospital first.’

A&E takes forever as it always does. James has his head scanned a second time and a stern talking to by a doctor who in no uncertain terms informs him that when he’s been told to rest and recuperate that does not involve professional pole dancing. She wants to keep him in but concedes to the idea that Robbie will be staying with him and keeping an eye on him. 

It’s nearly three in the morning when they finally walk through the door and Robbie is exhausted. James, still covered in green paint heads for the shower while Robbie makes tea and sets the alarm for regular intervals through the night to check that James doesn’t deteriorate. He uses James computer to inform Moody of a simplified version of what’s happened and that neither of them will be in tomorrow.

When he wakes at five to check on James he finds him curled up at the top of the bed wide awake and crying silently. James tries desperately to wipe his eyes before Robbie has a chance to see but it’s too late. 

‘Hey what’s wrong?’

‘I’ll have buggered up both my jobs now.’ James sniffs. ‘If I can’t dance I won’t get to work in the club and then we won’t catch the murderer and it’s all my fault.’  
Robbie smiles despite himself. ‘This is the concussion talking. It can make you emotional and upset. Val fell down some stairs and got knocked out. She cried over the stupidest things for weeks after that.’ Robbie says with sympathy.

‘It’s not stupid if I’ve screwed up a murder case.’ James says firmly but his eyes are still wet and red.

‘You haven’t screwed up anything. We’ll catch the killer whether you can work in the club or not and you may feel better in a few days and be able to go back. If anyone is in the wrong here it’s that brute that hurt you. You were just trying to protect your friend.’ Robbie does his best to reassure James.

‘Yea.’ James nods and then squeezes his eyes shut when he remembers what an inordinately bad idea that is. ‘I feel like shit Robbie.’ he admits. 

‘I know pet, but try to sleep. You need the rest.’ 

James stares at him in confusion. ‘You don’t call me pet, that’s what you call your children.’

‘No it’s what I say when I want to show someone I care about them. And besides you don’t tell me your feelings and you just cried in front of me and told me you feel shit, so perhaps it is an evening of firsts. Go on sleep, I’ll come in and check on you in two hours time.’ Robbie patted James leg gently through the duvet before returning to the spare bed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is based on my favourite dragqueen Christer Lindarw

  


James sleeps much of the next day. He wakes for long enough for Robbie to ply him with toast and water and watch over him in as subtle a fashion as possible as James stumbles to the toilet and back to bed. It is clear that the lad is either utterly exhausted or badly concussed… Laura suspects the former when Robbie calls her to ask if it is really alright if James does nothing but sleep and mumble random facts at Robbie when he tries to check his knowledge of everything from the current prime minister to rather obscure quotes from literature or philosophy.

‘Bring him to A&E if you’re worried but I suspect he’s just exhausted and in pain… you do know that a concussion hurts even when they are not life threatening don’t you?’ she questions when at two in the afternoon Robbie calls her just to say that James accepted the pain pills the doctor gave him that Robbie can’t remember the name of and is now asleep mumbling moderately articulate responses to Robbie’s questions. Apparently if Robbie wakes him up and says ‘Of man’s first disobedience’ and James then goes on to quote about ten lines of Paradise Lost it means that he’s not about to die even if he sleeps all day and makes funny noises when Robbie runs his hand through James’ hair.

Robbie spends the day in James’ front room with Moody’s blessing. In fact the man pops round at lunch time and thankfully James is asleep and unable to complain as his boss stands hovering over his bed making a pointless cursory examination and coming to the rather useless conclusion that because James looks like he is sleeping comfortably he must not have been hurt too badly and unless there is a doctor’s note they are both expected back in the office in the morning. 

Robbie spends about an hour getting hold of the doctor they saw in A&E who is more than happy to sign James off work for the rest of the week but upon hearing that he has been coherent all night can’t reasonably advice that Robbie needs to be home with him. The result is that the next morning Robbie drags himself into work and guides two PCs in the work on researching the two Bulgarian security guards’ background while his mind is still securely on James who remains curled up asleep in his flat. 

By the time he returns there however he finds James sat on the sofa doing research though still very much pale as a ghost and dressed in his pajamas. Even after four hours of watching James presumably reading comfortably on the sofa Robbie is still worried when the lad unintentionally falls asleep in front of a horribly bad detective drama.

For the second night in a row Robbie serves up a pierce and ping that James doesn’t eat much of and then guides the poor lad into bed. Once he’s got James asleep however he forces himself to head out for a visit to the club. He really doesn’t want to but if he’s supposed to keep this charade up he knows he has to. He drops in and heads straight for the bar where he orders a beer and very pointedly asks how James is doing…. 

‘He’s still off sick but apparently he’s doing better… he might be back in a day or two. Apparently he took a fall… knocked himself out and tried to work even though he was ill. He says he’s much better now.’ the lad behind the bar explains. Robbie is not sure that the exhausted, emotional and clearly in pain James that he left curled up in his bed is in any way doing better but he supposes that the fact that he has been up and about is an improvement of sorts. 

He cuts his visit short and finds himself sitting not on a bar stool but rather on the side of James’ bed, watching the young man sleep. He seems to be sleeping calmly until just after one o’clock when he starts tossing and turning. Robbie finds himself mimicking the things he used to do for his children when they had nightmares and half an hour later he is asleep next to James, having soothed the lad back to sleep by running his hand through the golden strands of his hair until he settled and then gently holding him until his breathing returned to normal and he unconsciously curled himself against Robbie’s side.

The next morning Robbie has no choice but to leave James asleep. What is more surprising is that he doesn’t find the lad doing research on the sofa when he returns. He’s half way through making dinner when James returns, collapsing on the couch where he very quickly succumbs to painkillers and sleep.  
‘I’m not going to be dancing.’ James assures when he gets up at seven in the morning to head into the club. 

Robbie heads for the club expecting to find James behind the bar and is surprised when it’s Clive who serves him his pint and with a twinkle in his eye assures him that his boy will be on in a couple of minutes.

Robbie wonders if Cornwell has pushed James into dancing after all and worries that tonight will be a repeat performance of the other night. He sits there fretting until the lights come on on the stage but it’s not a skimpily clad James who arrives in the spotlight but rather the tallest, prettiest woman Robbie has ever seen.   
Dressed in a sequined gown that does its utmost to show off her long legs which are made even longer by the addition of fishnet stockings and a pair of sharp stiletto heels she saunters through the crowd. Robbie takes only a second to wonder at what she’s doing there considering this is supposed to be a men only room before he decides that he wants to see this girl take her clothes off enough that he really doesn’t care what she’s doing there. 

Arriving on the stage she doesn’t mount the poles but instead gets a microphone out and with a deep voice which is decidedly not female she starts to sing and it is only then that Robbie realises that below the fake eyelashes and impeccably applied lipstick is his awkward sod… suddenly not looking so awkward any more.

It is a mystery how a man who is capable of looking so uncomfortable in a suit can somehow pull off wearing a mini dress. Realising that the beautiful woman is in fact James doesn’t make her any less beautiful. James as a girl is one of the most striking things Robbie has ever seen and he can’t help but ask himself if James is this beautiful normally or if it is the makeup and fake breasts that have somehow transformed him. 

The singing doesn’t hurt. James has a soft, full voice that carries through the room. He starts off singing something Robbie’s never heard before. A sexy tune about seducing all the men in the room that seems rather apt. It’s followed by a Liza Minnelli imitation where James merely mimes to the original before he goes back to singing in his own voice for a beautiful upbeat number about coming out…. not as gay but as a star which seems exactly right considering his current performance. 

James ends his performance with walking off stage and approaching Robbie’s table. ‘My knight in shining armour. Perhaps I should swoon again’ James jokes as he leans down and plants a chaste kiss on the side of Robbie’s mouth, eliciting raucous applause from the other punters. Robbie can’t help it, he reaches up and wraps his arm around James’ side pulling the lad onto his lap. James lands softly on his thighs, sequins scratching against his shirt front and a slender arm landing across his shoulders. 

The security guard in the corner starts making his way toward them but James waves him away. If it had been any other punter pulling him onto his lap he would have been grateful for the support but he knows he’s safe in Robbie’s arms, though isn’t that a weird thought to have about his former boss. 

‘You make a beautiful woman James’ Robbie whispers in his ear.

‘I’ll remember that in case I ever consider going down the Zoe Kenneth route.’

‘Don’t even joke about it.’ Robbie flinches back at the memory of that horrible case. He realises that that day may in fact be the last time he held James in his arms. Has the same thing occurred to James, is that why he made the reference or is it merely the male to female transformation that has brought her to mind.   
‘You take care of yourself James.’ Robbie runs a finger down James bare arm ‘Don’t overdo it. I’ll see you back at yours in a few hours.’ 

James slips from Robbie’s lap sashaying out of the room in his high heels with everyone’s eyes firmly glued to his swinging hips.


End file.
